


i can watch forever, i can watch for hours

by windychimes



Category: Bastion
Genre: F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windychimes/pseuds/windychimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not right, the way he thinks about Zia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i can watch forever, i can watch for hours

It’s not right, the way he thinks about Zia. Zia is his friend, just his friend, and she’s younger than him, and she ain’t been with anybody, he’s pretty sure. Well, there was that one boy, but he’s pretty he never did anything… anything…

The Kid tries to think of the word Rucks likes to use. Untoward, that’s it. Yeah, the Kid is pretty sure he was never untoward to Zia. The Ura are all proper-like, the Kid can tell, from the way they dress and the way they talk and what Zulf’s said. Zulf doesn’t like it when Zia takes off her jacket, not any of her sweaters, just her jacket; if she’s anything like Zulf, there’s no way she would do anything untoward with that boy.

He pauses to think about the times Zia has taken off her jacket. It’s not been a whole lot, what with winter coming soon and Zulf’s need for properness, but when it’s been hot out, really hot, she’s stripped off her jacket and her scarf and her sweaters and when it’s like that he can see that her pants stretch so nicely across her—

The Kid pulls his pillow over his face. He can’t think of those things, he can’t think of her, not like that. She’s a proper lady and you don’t think those kinds of things about proper ladies, no matter what. Not like the girls at the bar, the girls who showed off an awful lot of skin and _wanted_ you to think those things. They liked it when the men’s eyes followed them all around the room and they threw money in the tip jar, just in case one of them girls might notice. They didn’t like it when the men tried to touch, but the Kid can understand that; it ain’t right to touch a lady, no matter what she’s showing. They’re all ladies, deep down, and they deserve proper respect. His mama taught him as much.

Even as he thinks of the respect they deserve he still imagines Zia dressed up like those girls at the bar. She’d be real embarrassed about it, probably; she’d try to hide it, it’s real different from all those layers she wears, but maybe, as the night went by, she’d loosen up a little. She wouldn’t hide behind the bar no more, she’d go walk around the room. Maybe she’d like all the men who stared at her, just like the other girls. Maybe, maybe she’d start doing that thing the bolder girls did, where they lean over just right so you could see down their shirt, or if you’re behind them you could see up their skirt, and Zia, Zia would look good from behind. Zia’s got those nice wide hips and if he could see up her skirt—

The Kid presses his pillow harder against his face. No, no, he can’t think things like that. He can’t think inappropriate things to begin with, and he especially can’t think of really inappropriate things like that. But… He adjusts the front of his pants. Maybe, maybe he could think about that a little. Not her as a bar girl, no, that’s too much, but maybe, maybe if they got together. Just pretend for a little. There ain’t no harm in that, right? The Kid lets go of his pillow and unbuckles his belt. If he makes it quick, if he keeps it as proper as he can, it won’t be so bad. He’ll do it this once, and never again, and it’ll be okay.

If he was gonna be with Zia, gonna be untoward, they’d be dating first. Zia’s a proper lady; she wouldn’t do it if she didn’t love him. Yeah, she’d love him. They’d be in love, and be happy, and it’d be good. He’d ask her—no, _she’d_ ask him if he wanted, if he wanted to have sex. Maybe she wouldn’t even be able to say the word, and she’d stutter, and use something dumb like ‘be intimate,’ like Zulf uses. No, she’d say sex; she’s not weird like Zulf is. But he couldn’t ask her for, it wouldn’t be right. She’d have to come to him, blushing, nervous, biting her lip. She’d cute like that, yeah. She’d be really cute like that.

The Kid wraps his fingers around his cock. He’s gotta keep his strokes slow, keep them even; he can’t go off until he’s at the good part. He can’t do this again so he has to make sure he enjoys it as much as he can.

He shakes his head and gets back to his daydreams. She’d ask him, and she’d be embarrassed, but he’d tell her it’s okay. It’s okay to want something like that. And then he’d kiss her, hard but not too hard, kiss her for a real long time and lie her down. He’d undo her braid and it’d spread around her; it’d look really good like that, really nice. Her hair’s so pretty, and she never calls herself pretty, doesn’t even like it when other people say it, but she spends a lot of time on her hair, so maybe she thinks it’s pretty. She spends forever in the bath cleaning it, she spends forever brushing it, so she’s gotta think it’s pretty. Maybe she’d like it if he told her it was pretty.

But that’s not the important part right now. She’d be on her back, hair spread out, clothes… The Kid pauses. He never really figured out how all those layers work, so they’d just be gone. No sense in dealing with them, not in a fantasy. But she’d be in her underwear still; just her bottoms, ‘cause she don’t wear a bra, and the Kid almost wishes he didn’t know that. One day it was cold, coldest it’d been in a while, and he could see her nipples through her pajama top and he didn’t mean to, he really didn’t, but he stared. Zulf noticed, and gave Zia his coat, and then he glared at the Kid all day.

The Kid wonders what Zulf would do if he saw him now, if he could see his thoughts, but he doesn’t spend much time on that; the Kid is pretty sure Zulf would just lose it, and he doesn’t want to deal with that.

But Zia, Zia, back to Zia. She’d be in her underwear bottoms and she’d say, please. She’d say, I need you. She wouldn’t use any vulgar language, or swear, or anything like that. She’d be proper about it. And the Kid, he’d want to take her real bad, but not yet. First, he’d spread her thighs and get between them, get his face down there. She’d be… she’d be… The Kid pauses, tries to think of a word that isn’t vulgar, and fails. She’d be real wet, wet enough to soak through the material, and she’d be real embarrassed and tell him not to look, but he still would. He’d look there all day, if he could.

The Kid stops a moment and takes a deep breath. He’s getting over excited and moving too fast, and he can’t do that. He’s gotta enjoy this; it’s the only time he’ll ever do it, ever ever, and he can’t finish before the fantasy is done. He’s gotta get to end, ‘cause if he doesn’t, he’ll never be able to continue.

But he’s getting distracted again. He’d have his face between her thighs, and she’d hide her face she’d be so embarrassed, and then he’d lick her, right through the fabric. She’d moan, real high, real loud, and she’d have to bite her hand to keep quiet. They’d have to keep quiet, ‘cause the others are always around, and they wouldn’t take to kindly to him being all untoward to her. Even in fantasy, he can’t completely escape reality. But he’d lick her, he’d lick her a lot, he’d eat her like he was eating a fruit and she’d say, stop, you’re going to ruin them, about her underwear, that is, but she’d keep moaning and gasping and whimpering his name. She’d wiggle her hips and press so hard against his face he could barely breathe but it’d be worth it. Then he’d pull his head back and take off her underwear and she’d be naked all the way and he’d just look at her. He’d look at her small breasts and her big butt and her wet, her wet—

No, no, he can’t use a dirty word, not a word that dirty, not with her. But he’d look at her for a real long time, as long as he wanted, and not stop until she was too embarrassed to let him look anymore. One time, one time, on accident, swear to Pyth, he saw her naked; he went to grab her for… for something, something that didn’t matter, and he caught her changing. Her back was to him and he could see that nice butt of hers, a good handful there, a real good handful, as shameful as that is to think, and she turned around and he got to see everything. He got to see her small breasts, small enough to fit in his hands completely, but small in a cute way; her big thighs, good to grab onto; that patch of hair between her legs, dark and thick. He looked a little too long, looked her up and down, acted like a real pervert, but left before she could scream. It’s a good thing he did, ‘cause Zulf and Rucks would have given him a talking to, a talking to that woulda lasted for days, and that ain’t never worth it. He took a long, long bath after that, a real cold one, ice cold, to calm down. Kept his face in his pillow a real long time, too. He couldn’t look at her for two days afterwards; couldn’t get those dirty thoughts out of his head. Couldn’t get the picture of her body out of his head. But he never did nothing about it, never got too improper, but now, now he is. Now he’s bad. Now he’s—

The Kid groans and covers his face with his hands. He can’t do this, he can’t do this, he’s gotta stop. It just ain’t right. But he’s so hard it hurts and maybe, maybe if he does it this once, he’ll stop thinking like that. He can get it all out and it’ll go away. That’s how it works, right? How it probably works. It’s worth a shot. Taking a deep breath, he grabs his cock again and starts up a slow, careful rhythm.

When he was done looking at her, he’d put his head back between her legs. There’d be nothing in his way and he could lick and suck and maybe even nibble a little her all he wanted. He’d get a finger or two in her while he did, he’d get her ready, stretch her, make sure it wouldn’t hurt when they finally did it, and he’d keep eating her out. Another vulgar term, but the only one that works. By then she wouldn’t be able to keep quiet but it wouldn’t even matter, she’d like it so much she wouldn’t care who walked in. She’d say his name a million times and then she’d go stiff and she’d finally, finally, she’d, y’know, she’d come. She’d come all over his face and he wouldn’t stop until she was crying. No, no, crying’s too much, she’d be almost crying. He’d never want to make her cry, not even in a good way. And afterwards she’d be shaking so hard she couldn’t even move and she’d say, wow, that was really good. He’d think about asking her to, to suck him off, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t, not a good girl like her, even if she’d make a real cute face while doing it and her small hands would stroke what she couldn’t fit in her mouth and—

The Kid lets go of his cock and digs his fingers into his bedroll. He’s too close, too close. He’s gotta slow it down, he’s almost to the really good part and he can’t finish before then. What he’s thinking about, what he’s imaging, it ain’t never gonna happen, so he has to take it slow. He has to enjoy it. He gives himself a minute to recover before he takes his cock in hand again and lets his mind fade back to his fantasy.

He’d give her a moment to calm down and then he’d ask if she was ready, ‘cause he’d need to make sure she was first. He’d have to be as much as a gentleman as he could during this; Zia’s a good girl, she deserves that. It’d take a little while for her to be ready, she’s probably never come before, so she’d need a bit to get used to it, but then she’d bite her lip and nod and spread her legs wider for him. His clothes would be gone at that point, maybe he took ‘em off earlier or something, and he’d line himself right up with her. He’d press in, but he’d take it slow, ‘cause it’d be Zia’s first time and he wouldn’t wanna hurt her. He’d never hurt her, not in a million years. He’d stop, maybe half way, or something like that, and he’d ask her if she was okay. He’d have to make sure, he’d have to know if she liked it or not. She’d say yes, and tell him to keep going, and when he did she’d be making just the best noises, all breathy and high and Gods, it’d be so good. He’d keep going, he’d go until he was all the way in, and by then she’d be moving against him, moving up and down with him, wrapping her legs around him and begging for more. They’d move together, get a good rhythm going, a good pace, and she’d pull him down by the shoulders and whisper his name into his neck. He’d say hers, too, because her name is beautiful, and she is beautiful, and they’d kiss a million times, kiss until they couldn’t kiss anymore. She’d turn his face to hers, and they’d look into each other’s eyes, he’d look into those big, beautiful brown eyes of hers, and she’d say, Kid, I love—

The Kid comes with a grunt, gritting his teeth, hips jerking up and down erratically. Godsdamn, he didn’t get to go all the way, but he got so close, close enough, maybe close enough. It takes a while for his ragged breathing to even out. When he’s calmed down, he stares into his messy hand and whispers to himself, I’m so fucked up.


End file.
